Glory
by Normryl
Summary: Complete. Life isn't glorious and neither is death.


**Glory**

Title: Glory

Author: Therm

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters portrayed in this story.

Summary: There's not always a lot of glory in life and there's none in death.

Warnings: Major character death.

Frankie stood and watched them all.

He felt nervous, brought on by fear and a build up of anger he had no way of letting go.

He was trying to see how the others coped with their feelings.

BA was sitting at the table in the dining area, a piece of equipment in his hands as he mindlessly fiddled with it.

He wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, he was too busy making sure everyone else was alright, making sure they didn't need anything.

Murdock lay sprawled across the couch, watching TV as robotically as BA worked on his equipment.

It almost looked as though Murdock were sleeping from Frankie's viewpoint, but he knew he wasn't sleeping, he hadn't done in days.

Face busied himself with normal things. He carried on working on cons, he made sure BA and Murdock stayed hydrated and fed.

They were all coping in there own way, but from what Frankie could tell, not very well.

He felt he couldn't talk to them right now.

Face was the easiest to talk to, but he was still far to distracted to hold onto anything for too long, probably worried that one of the others would need him the moment his back was turned. BA was never much for a conversation and even Murdock who could be extremely talkative was quiet and withdrawn, although not depressed, which was what Frankie would have assumed what would have happened given his former mental state, although he never knew Murdock when he was 'crazy'.

There had been no sign of Stockwell for days. He'd had no contact with them, knowing that any interference from him would not be appreciated right now.

Maybe the most tragic thing here, was the speed in which it all happened.

It had been normal up until then, everything running according to plan.

Then suddenly, Hannibal was down.

No one had heard a shot, Face began to search for a wound as Hannibal moaned in pain.

BA and Murdock were looking around them for the unseen attacker, certain they'd see someone running from the scene, gun still smoking.

Not sure what to do, Frankie just watched as Face tried on vain to help Hannibal.

Frustrated at not being able to find anyone to pay for hurting their Colonel, Murdock yelled for Frankie to call for some help and call Stockwell.

Adrenaline racing through his veins, Frankie raced off to do as he was told.

"I, I can't find a wound!" Face said, voice wavering, the strain so evident.

Murdock and BA knelt down around Hannibal and his sudden unconscious form.

"Maybe, er, maybe he was, he was hit in the back." Murdock said.

"No." BA said, quietly, not sounding like his usual self.

He'd watched Hannibal carefully and realised that he'd just watched him exhale for the final time.

He knew he'd just watched Hannibal die.

Things after that went so quickly with Frankie arriving back and then the ambulance turning up.

Some anonymous doctor came out and told then that John Smith had died of a massive heart attack and that there was nothing that could have been done, even if he'd been in hospital, the arrest was that powerful.

Shocked and numbed they returned back to what they had called home for the last year or so.

Frankie felt to out of his depth there and requested to go home for a day or two. With no Stockwell around, the others had just told him to go.

The others had been through so much more together and loosing him was a bigger piece of them ripped away than it was to Frankie, though his loss was still great.

It was a relief once the young man had left, they were able to let go, able to show the feelings they had been fighting to keep in check.

BA was the first to leave, going to call his mother, the person he knew he felt most comfortable talking about his feelings too, not worrying about upsetting anyone else, because she would understand and comfort him as she had when he was a younger and his father had died.

Face and Murdock sat alone, neither speaking or even looking at the other. Both lost in a world of despair, not just loosing a friend and a leader, but a man who had became more of a father figure to them both, even if it wasn't obvious to anyone else. He cared for them like he would have for his own children.

Face glanced at Murdock, his blue eyes glassy with the tears he tried to keep at bay. Murdock had his head hung low, not noticing Face looking in his direction. The tears he was trying to stop appearing wouldn't go away and he couldn't fight the loss he felt any longer.

The first sob was choked on, trying to be kept back so fiercely, but after the first one had been released, there was nothing in the whole universe that could have stopped the second one coming, building up instantly in raw despair.

Face went over, the tears he'd been trying to stop also appearing, although not like Murdock's, not yet.

He tried to comfort the inconsolable.

They stayed in that room for so long. Face doing his best for his friend and not thinking how badly he was hurting inside, it was easier when you had someone else to focus on.

Murdock couldn't do that, not without unburdening himself first.

He recovered a little, enough to speak. "I fell sick." he said, moments later following the feeling with the action.

It landed on the floor but it didn't matter.

After Murdock had finished, Face helped him up. Both their bodies exhausted, souls destroyed.

Face lead them both to his bedroom.

Murdock had no room of his own here, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had. He wouldn't allow him to be on his own. Wouldn't allow himself it either.

He laid Murdock on the bed, covered him up. His face was a mess, tears staining him but it didn't matter.

Physically with nothing left to give, Murdock let sleep take him away from the world he hated. Face lay next to him for a moment or two, placed a comforting kiss on his forehead.

Face went out once he was sure Murdock was deep enough in sleep not to wake him as he left. He didn't want to leave Murdock, never had wanted to, but especially not now. He headed to BA's door, knocking gently. Waiting for BA's approval to enter, he opened the door once he received it.

BA's eyes gave all his grief away, although he seemed just the same in every other way.

"Just wanted you to know Murdock's in with me. If you need us, come in." Face said.

BA nodded and Face left.

It had been a bad first night, the ones that followed after were just as harsh.

After two nights, Frankie returned.

It was three days since he'd been back now and things were the same as they were then. Murdock still wouldn't sleep, none of them were eating much, enough not to make themselves sick, but nothing of substance.

Murdock suddenly turned the TV off, all of them watching him.

The TV hadn't been off in days.

He didn't say anything, but he acknowledged everyone by looking at them all.

"I was starting to think about the funeral." Face said. He'd been waiting for some sign from Murdock, waiting to know that he was coping with the death.

Turning the TV off had been it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Frankie asked. The look on his face, the tone of his voice all said, let me help.

"Of course. There are somethings I wanna set up, but there's plenty of things to do." Face said, tone soft like he was speaking to a child.

"Face?" Murdock spoke.

"Yeah?"

"Can I do the eulogy?"

"Sure." Face responded. He'd been thinking of a eulogy to do himself, but none of the words seemed to do justice to Hannibal.

Could you really sum up a life in a few sentences?

If it could be done, Murdock could do it.

Although Face could find words for cons, a eulogy was just too hard. It meant telling everyone just what you were feeling, how you loved and how you had cried. He just couldn't do it.

The more he thought, the more right it seemed for Murdock to do it. He was strong enough to go through with it and he would want everyone to know what Hannibal really was all about.

The funeral was organised.

A day they all dreaded moving closer to them every second until it was upon them and there was no way they could avoid it, pretend it was far into the future.

Suddenly, it was here and now.

Most of the day passed by within a blink of an eye.

Murdock's eulogy brought them all crashing down, making them consider what they had lost, making every second without him harder and every breath a painful struggle to continue with life.

The only other thing that slowed the day was the actual burial. Watching the coffin disappear, knowing that's where you would be one day.

Knowing that in the box was a man who had been healthy and vibrant a week and a half ago.

Now he was stiff and empty.

It just seemed so wasteful, to fill your lives with hopes and dreams and have it all stop so quickly.

But, all who attended the funeral were comforted that night by Murdock's words, coming back to them.

Unknowingly soothing them, making life seem just a little more bareable after mortality reminds you of what it really is all about.

'Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith.

Never has a name been so wrong for a person as John's.

That's why those of us who knew him, called him Hannibal and those who respected him called him Colonel.

He wasn't just a leader of soldiers, he was a natural born leader. Anyone would follow him because he had every quality a leader needed, trust in his men, confidence and always had another plan in the back of his mind.

But that wasn't all he had. He was more than just a leader. So much more.

He was a friend. He was an actor. He was a father figure for those who didn't have one.

He was someone who couldn't turn the other cheek when he saw something unjust happening.

He won't just be remembered by us here to day, he'll be remembered by all those people he has helped in his life. They can't all be here, they couldn't all fit in here.

There are a lot of things that could be said here today.

I've barely touched upon Hannibal's life and what he did throughout it.

The truth is, I could talk for days and still I couldn't get across what he was really like.

All of us here knew him.

I don't need to tell you and you don't need me to say it.

I think that tonight you'll remember all those things he did for you.

Maybe you'll smile to yourself as you think of what a great time you had together.

And then maybe you'll cry that it's now just a memory.

But after the tears have dried up, think back about those good times.

And in the end, his life will be smiled upon and not cried over.

End.


End file.
